


The Gazelle

by Thoughts Like A Minefield (Incog_Ninja)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dirty Talk, F/M, M/M, Nudity, Power Exchange
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-21
Updated: 2020-04-21
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:35:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23774695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Incog_Ninja/pseuds/Thoughts%20Like%20A%20Minefield
Summary: They aim to please.
Relationships: Benny Lafitte/Dean Winchester, Benny Lafitte/Dean Winchester/You, benny lafitte/dean winchester/original female character
Comments: 5
Kudos: 13





	The Gazelle

Dean and me — we share a lot of things.

We share good music and good drink. Tonight, we’re sharing a good woman.

“You gonna show us how pretty you can be, princess?” Dean purrs like a jungle cat as he hovers behind her, hands in her hair, twisting and twirling the silky tresses. His lips are so close to her ear, she visibly shivers.

I circle them, sizing them up to see where I can make my way inside. Dean sets the pace and is the anchor, always. He keeps everything stable and grounded. I like to mix things up, though, and he lets me.

I come to a stop before tonight’s spoil, close enough to feel the energy vibrating off of her.

“You heard the man, cher,” I say, resting one hand on one of her hips and reaching up to trace her sharp, soft jaw with the tip of my other finger. “Show us somethin’.”

Dean’s encouraging, I’m demanding; we’re Good Cop, Bad Cop.

She turns to look over her shoulder and up to Dean for reassurance. He smiles down at her and brings his lithe hands up her frame, from the generous swell of her hips along her narrow waist and slim ribcage. Then he’s cupping one small breast over her blouse and lightly pinching her chin to hold her in place for a searing kiss.

That man can kiss, too.

Times we don’t have a subject, Dean’s focus is on me. I don’t argue and I do not complain. Dean knows what to do with every inch of that long, lean body of his. He knows how to cage a person in, make them feel safe, wanted, fucking _needed_.

She whimpers and sighs into his mouth, and he grins around the deep, lazy swipe of his tongue and twist of his lips against hers.

“So needy,” I tell her, sliding my thumbs under the gauzy hem of her top to graze the silk of her skin. “Use your words.”

“What should I say?” she asks, her voice clear and direct as she pulls away from Dean to look me in the eye.

She wants to be here. She approached us, after all. She isn’t new to this game, and she likes to play.

I grin as she pulls away from Dean and snags my gaze. Her eyes are olive green and sparkling like a martini neat. She’s mischievous, fresh, and so ripe.

“Say what you want,” Dean murmurs from behind her.

His hands move slowly, seemingly random, but I know how focused he is on her and the moment. Giving and seeking pleasure are vital things to Dean and he takes the acts to heart.

I can see her skin ripple, electrified by his touch. I know what that feels like. Dean’s hands are rough but refined in skill and he’s determined to make them do the best, most obscene and gratifying of his biddings.

“Said ya wanted us both, cher,” I continue. “That true?”

She hums affirmatively and leans back into Dean’s touch as she starts to work on the buttons of her blouse. “I do,” she answers on a sigh.

Dean joins her, starting at the bottom to slide the pearly discs through their respective holes, splaying the fabric open with his movements to bare her flat, smooth belly.

“You promise to love, honor, and cherish ‘til the morning light, Dean?”

Dean cracks a grin at my age-old vow when we do these things. It’s his vow, as well; neither of us takes these moments lightly.

“I _really_ do,” he answers before taking her mouth with his again. He slides his hands into her hair and she turns into him, letting him deepen the kiss and giving me access to her strong, gorgeously shaped back.

I waste no time unhooking her bra and untangling it from her arms then sliding my hands up between them to cup her. I bury my face in the crook of her neck to taste her.

“Sweet cream,” I mutter.

Dean appreciates the play-by-play. He wants all senses on board when he fucks; he likes to taste and hear about the taste — to touch and be touched.

“She tastes like cream,” I reiterate, spinning her to face me and diving down to sample her tight nipples.

Dean crowds in behind her again and palms the upper curve of her stomach, holding one small breast in offering for me as I slick her up good. I suck to pull as much of that taste in my mouth as I can before gripping her hips tight and standing tall to pass her flavor to Dean.

When our mouths meet, she gasps and then groans. “Jesus,” she swears.

Dean groans, too. “Fuck,” he says, chasing my mouth as I pull away.

I clasp my hand around her delicate wrist and lead her to the bed. As she lets me pull her along, Dean follows. He watches with hunger while I spin her in a sort of dance.

He’s stalking us, actually, eyes fixed on _her_.

“I betchu like it nasty, huh?” I ask her, knowing it’s what Dean wants to hear.

He loves pushing the envelope with his words and his direction.

Her eyes light and her cheeks flush.

“You like a dirty mouth?” I more pointedly ask.

Her chest heaves and she smiles and nods. “God, yes.”

“Well, you come to the right place, dahlin’,” I reply, maneuvering her to sit on the edge of the bed, waiting a beat for Dean to catch up. “‘Coz we gonna do you right.”

Her frayed denim wrapped knees fall open and she leans back on her elbows, her nipples hard and glistening in the low light. Heat rolls off her core like smoke from an overheated engine.

“Do it, then,” she says, challenging. “Wreck me.”

Dean and I make eye contact once more. He smiles, lopsided and wanting before nodding.

Then we move in to oblige like the gentlemen we are.


End file.
